


arcadia

by legdabs (scvlly)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Date Night, Fluff, M/M, holiday fic, tw for alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 22:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17734202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scvlly/pseuds/legdabs
Summary: arcadia:n. believed by ancient greeks to be an earthly paradise.or, date night in the south of france.





	arcadia

Dan’s too hot. It’s almost seven in the evening, but the sun is still visible in the sky and the heat of the day has barely faded at all. He supposes it’s to be expected, given that it’s early July and they’re beside the Mediterranean and all, but it doesn’t make him feel any less like the shower he took just fifteen minutes ago was a figment of his imagination. They’d only had to cross a few streets to get to the string of restaurants and their sprawling outdoor seating areas in the old part of the city, but the heat on the short journey was enough that Dan’s now very glad to be wearing a white shirt.

It seems a little strange to be sitting down outside an Italian restaurant in the south of France, especially when Italy itself is just a couple of hours’ drive away and Dan hasn’t yet kept his promise to himself to try some authentic French cuisine on this trip. Still; Phil had insisted that tonight was to be date night, and date night has meant heading to the Italian restaurant a ten-minute walk from their apartment for as long as either of them can remember. It wouldn’t be right to eat anything  _but_ Italian on date night, Phil had told him earlier with a look on his face that said he meant it, and after spotting the menu for this place pulled up on Phil’s phone on the table of their hotel room, Dan had rolled his eyes but agreed with him anyway. He’s never said no to pizza or pasta in his life; he’s not about to start now.

“D’you know what you want?” he asks Phil without looking up from his menu, still choosing between two pasta dishes in which the only word he recognises is  _fromage._

“Yeah,” Phil says, “I’m thinking either the seafood linguine, the carbonara, or the pizza with ham and mozzarella and  _champignons,_ if I can work out what that means. I hope it’s champagne. Champagne on pizza can’t be bad, right?”

Dan blinks at him, smirking. “So you  _don’t_ know what you want.”

“Hmm,” Phil chuckles, “guess not. Do you know?”

Dan nods, reaching across the table to point at Phil’s menu as he says, “This one, or this one. Thoughts?”

“Do you  _actually_ want the one with spinach in, or are you just trying to be good?”

Dan purses his lips, and Phil laughs. “Thought so. Go for the other one, babe. We’re on holiday.”

“What would I do without you here to work through such important life decisions with me?” Dan sighs over-exaggeratedly.

Phil chuckles, reaching across to adjust the open collar of Dan’s shirt. His fingers are cool where they touch Dan’s still too-hot skin, and Dan’s more than a little tempted to ask him to leave his hands where they are. “What can I say. I’m a genius.”

“A genius who doesn’t know what  _champignons_ are.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Mmm. I learned  _something_ useful in GCSE French.”

Phil raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Mushrooms.”

“Really?” Phil grimaces. “Guess that’s the pizza option gone, then.”

“Did you want the pizza?”

“I think I did, actually.”

“So ask them for it without mushrooms,” Dan says, tapping Phil’s foot with his own beneath the table.

“Will you ask for me?”

“Of course I will, love.”

Phil positively beams at him.

 

* * *

 

In broken French, they order a bottle of white wine to split between them, and nod a little too enthusiastically when the waitress asks, in English, if they’d like some bread to share.

Moments later, a wine waiter brings their bottle in an ice-filled bucket. Phil tries the taster he pours for him, and Dan struggles not to crack up at the serious wine-tasting face that he makes.

Phil rolls his eyes when the waiter’s gone, taking a sip from his full glass. “I don’t get why they pour tasters. It’s not like anyone’s gonna say ‘no, don’t like it, new bottle, please’, is it? Just give me my wine and go,” 

Dan laughs at him. “Never mind that. I think that’s the first time someone’s poured  _you_ the sample without asking. I’m the one who always has to pretend like I’m carefully weighing the lighter notes of something floral before making a decision, and I actually quite like not having to do that.”

“God, you’re right,” Phil says. “Why do you think he picked me? Do I look old? Do I need to change my moisturiser?”

“Stop panicking - your skin is perfect and you know it. Maybe you’re just maturing.”

“Maturing? Seriously, like cheese? Thanks, mate. Feels good,” Phil says, his tone deadpan, but Dan knows he’s kidding.

“You know I love cheese.” Dan smirks.

“Wow,” Phil flicks the back of his hand resting on the table. “Someone’s being  _cheesy_ tonight.”

Dan pretends to gag, before he spots their waitress and swats Phil’s hand away from his.  “Shush, you. Bad puns are banned. The bread’s coming.”

 

* * *

  

“It’d be rude of us to not eat, like,  _all_ of the free bread,” Phil reasons whilst buttering his third slice of baguette, only to be distracted by Dan’s amused snort.

“What?”

“You know this bread isn’t free, right?” Dan tells him around a particularly crunchy piece of crust.

“What do you mean? The bread’s always free.”

“Phil. Did you even look at the prices on the menu? The bread here is definitely  _not_ free.”

Phil frowns, before shrugging. “Well, if we’re paying for it, we might as well finish it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dan grins. “Do you want me to have the end bit?"

“Would you?” Phil tries to flutter his eyelashes, but it looks less alluring than it does somewhat worrying.

“Stop that, you. Of course. You just owe me.”

“I feel like I always owe you,” Phil says after a sip of wine, eyes narrowed. “When are you cashing these favours in?”

Dan shrugs nonchalantly, picking up some butter with his knife. “Maybe soon. Maybe never. Maybe keeping you suspense is all part of my fun.”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time their food arrives, they’ve still managed to drink most of their bottle of white wine, and make it through almost all of the bread on their table.

Dan catches the attention of their waitress before she leaves, sure that he can ask for another bottle in French, but all he manages is a “ _je voudrais_ ,” before trailing off, and ends up just pointing to the bottle.

“The same?” their waitress asks, in English, and he nods.

“ _Oui, s'il vous plaît._ ”

“Ah,  _b_ _ien_ ,” their waitress smiles, clearly amused by his effort, before heading back inside the restaurant.

When Dan turns back to him, Phil wiggles his eyebrows.

“What?”

“You’re cute when you’re trying to be culturally sensitive.”

“Shut up,” Dan blushes. “Apparently I can only say like three things in French. It’s awful.”

Phil takes a sip of wine, his eyes sparkling above the rim of the glass. “ _She_ thought it was cute, too.”

“ _She_ was just doing her job.” Dan says, laying a napkin on his lap and picking up his fork. His pasta looks delicious and he’s more than ready for Phil to drop his persistent teasing, but apparently he’s not quite ready to let it go.

“ _She_ has eyes. Of course she thinks you’re cute.”

“Why are you so determined to convince me about this?” Dan narrows his eyes conspiratorially, and eating a mouthful of pasta because he can’t bear not to for another second. “Should I be worried? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Nah. I just love to exploit your inability to take a compliment sometimes.”

“Bastard,” Dan shakes his head, smiling still.

Too-sweetly, Phil asks, “How’s your pasta, _darling_?”

Dan subtly flips him off. “So good. Wanna try?”

“Go on, then.”

Dan spears a tube of pasta with as little cheese on it as he can find, heaps it with sauce, and reaches the fork across the table towards Phil. He lets out a loud moan as he tastes it, and Dan has to kick him under the table to remind him where they are.

“Sorry, sorry. God, that’s good. What is it?”

“Dunno, babe. It was in French, and we’ve already established that I can only say ‘please' and 'thank you’.”

“Oi, you knew what mushrooms were. Stop selling yourself short.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Shut up and eat your pizza,”

“Now that I can do,” Phil says, reaching for his wine glass, and raising it towards Dan. “Happy holiday, love.”

Dan clinks his glass against Phil’s. “Let’s make it a good one.”

 

* * *

 

They split a desert - a sundae with more strawberries than should look appetising after a meal like that but they manage to eat them all anyway - and afterwards, Phil asks for the bill.

“I can’t remember,” he begins, words a little slurred from the two bottles of wine they’ve shared, “who’s got the money. Do you have the money?”

“I think you’ve got it,” Dan says, sounding less tipsy, though not by much. “We brought a card. Look in your pocket.”

Phil pats one and then the other, before trying a back pocket. “Gotcha.”

Their waitress comes, and Phil pays the bill. The combination of his poor eyesight and the alcohol he’s consumed means he’s not sure how much of a tip he left on the card machine, so he digs into his pockets again and swaps a ten euro note with their receipt on the table. Dan watches his slow movements with amusement.

“Where do you wanna go?” Phil asks eventually. “Back to the hotel?”

“Nah,” Dan finishes his wine. “It’s still light out. We should go for a walk.”

“Where to?”

“The beach?”

“Is it far? I dunno how far I can walk right now,” Phil puffs out his cheeks.

Dan shakes his head, pulling his phone from his shorts. “Don’t think so. I’ll check Google Maps.”

Phil hazily watches him type, and when Dan turns his phone to him, squints to read the screen.

“Does that say ten minutes?”

“Yeah,”

“Cool. Let’s do it?”

Dan nods and stands shakily, taking a moment to get his balance. The combination of two hours of sitting and the alcohol and the still-hot air have him feeling a little woozy, but it’s doesn’t last for too long. He crosses to the other side of the table and offers a hand to Phil, which he takes, and gets to his feet.

“C’mon, old man,” Dan laughs when Phil leans on him to stay upright as he pockets his card. “If you’re lucky I might stop and buy us another bottle of wine on the way.”

“That sounds like a reeeeally bad idea,” Phil says, slinging an arm around Dan’s shoulders as they walk. If anyone asks, it’s to keep his balance. “Let’s do it.”

 

* * *

 

Five euros and a short walk later, they make it to the stoney beach with a bottle of cheap French wine. It’s dusk; the sun is low in the sky to the right of them, and there are streaks of pink and gold mixed with the otherwise clear blue sky. With Phil’s arm still around his shoulders, Dan walks them as far from the nearest people on the beach and as close to the sea as he dares before letting them both sit, bodies leaning close and their legs outstretched.

Dan kicks his sandals off, rolls up his shirt sleeves, and opens up the bottle; taking a swig before passing it to Phil.

“Is it good?” he asks, and Dan shrugs.

“Can’t really tell. I think so, for cheap wine.”

Phil nods, taking a sip. He hums in agreement: “Not bad at all.”

For a few long minutes, they sit in silence, passing the wine between them and listening to the waves quietly come ashore. The fresh sea air mixes a little with Phil’s cologne, and with every breath, Dan feels more relaxed, and more at peace. He could fall asleep here on the stones if he wanted to, stretched out across the pebbles with his head in Phil’s lap and his toes in the sea.

Leaning back on his elbows, Dan nudges Phil’s ankle with his own. “You wanna go in the water?”

Phil turns to look at him. “Do you?”

Dan nods. “You get in first, though. I want pictures.”

“For Instagram?” Phil furrows his eyebrows.

“For me.”

“Oh. Okay,” Phil smiles gently, getting to his feet. Dan watches him as he slips the sandals off his feet and rolls his shorts a little higher on his legs, passing Dan his phone and their credit card before hobbling across the stones and down to the water.

“It’s cold,” he calls over his shoulder, inching his way deeper, until the waves lap at his calves. Dan’s already taking photos on his phone.

“Look at me, hon,” Dan says, and Phil turns back towards him with a smile. The blue of the water and the sky are beautiful, but they’re nothing compared to the man in front of him, to the photos he’s taking so he can hold onto this moment forever. Dan knows he’s biased, but  _God_  does Phil look good.

“C’mere,” Phil says after a few moments, clearly bored of being in the water alone. Leaving his phone beside Phil’s but taking the bottle of wine, Dan edges into the water beside him.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding. It’s  _cold_ , Phil.”

“Mmm, I know. Told you so. Gimme the wine, alcohol warms you up.”

“I think we’re beyond that point, mate. More alcohol just makes you drunker.”

Phil waves a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Let me pretend.”

“Anything you say, hon.”

Phil takes a sip of wine, and then another. They’re standing close enough that their shoulders are touching and their hands brush almost constantly, deliberately. Dan links his little finger with Phil’s; Phil takes Dan’s whole hand in his.

Dan raises an eyebrow in question, but Phil just passes him the wine.

“You sure?” Dan asks quietly, squeezing Phil’s hand so that he knows what he means.

Phil shrugs.

“I love you,” he says, and it’s so easy an explanation that it’s the most natural response in the world for Dan to tug Phil close by his shirt with the hand still holding their bottle of wine, and right there, on a dusky beach in the south of France where anyone can see, kiss him as softly as the moment deserves.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tungle [@legdabs](https://legdabs.tumblr.com); u can rb [here](https://legdabs.tumblr.com/post/182719999176/arcadia-rating-t-word-count-23k-summary) if u do so wish. hope u enjoyed bc i dont really like it and i deleted it earlier but whatever. it took me fucking forever to write so im posting it again.
> 
> thank u to [@racheldaddow](http://racheldaddow.tumblr.com) for doin me a beta!  
> for fuckin once this title isn't an xfiles reference. amazing.  
> set in nice, bc we did get a bit drunk at one of the restaurants and got a bit more drunk at the beach last year. it's cute. i also burnt being outside for under an hour on an overcast day so, like, u win some, u lose some.  
> anyway i finished this at 6.33am so like. the state of this Isn't My Fault.


End file.
